All That Glitters
by magpye
Summary: Bella is a spoiled and cynical social climber. Edward is a gas station clerk with far reaching dreams. She's too good for him and he's too good for her. What happens when they realize that they're both wrong? Rated for language,lemons, and libation.
1. R Lee Ermey

Hi Guys. Hope you enjoy this... a little different from The Sweetest Thing. I am currently without a beta on this one, so go easy on my grammar fail. I'm doing the best I can. :D

SM owns. I'm just screwing with things.

* * *

It's only 11:18AM and I'm already doing shots in the bathroom.

Rose and I take turns throwing back swigs from a bottle of Stoli. Several girls stand by and watch us with disgusted looks on their faces. I can't tell if it's because we can shoot vodka without making faces and gagging or because we aren't following Winthrops' Code of Conduct.

Either way. I'm going to be shitfaced by the three o'clock bell.

I shoot a look at Lauren Mallory. She is currently staring at us with a gaping mouth, pinching her fists together like the spoiled brat she is. I can tell she's debating telling on us.

_Go ahead. Tell on us._

She just huffs and walks out muttering some shit about being better than that.

Fuck that noise.

There's nothing better than lukewarm Stoli at 11AM. Well, maybe there is... Ice cold Stoli.

"I hope you brought more."

Rose flipped open her leather bag revealing another bottle of liquor.

Tequila.

Gag.

"Bitch, I've got a midterm exam at two. Do you really think I could handle that shit sober?" She leaned over the counter and smeared another layer of lipstick over her perfect bee stung lips. She puckered and pressed her lips together before flashing her white toothed smile in the mirror.

"Do you need to step into the stall and fuck yourself before you leave?" I asked, rolling my eyes at her vanity.

"No need. Emmett and I will most likely skip lunch. I hope you've got alternate eating arrangements in order." She ran a comb through her corn silk hair and flipped her head over to fluff her curls.

"Bitch, you can't leave me in the cesspool alone," I groaned, my eyes wide and pleading.

Lunch at Winthrop Academy was nothing short of torture. A room full of over privileged and underdeveloped idiots sitting around eating over priced organics and stoking each others egos.

Thanks but no.

"Sorry, Bella, you're going to have to handle the Horde on your own. Besides, Mike Newton wasn't in Lit this morning, so you don't have to worry about his limp dick getting all up in your personal space," she consoled as she passed the bottle back to me.

I took a long pull and wiped my mouth. "Fuck me."

"I'm sure he would if you asked him just like that. Now come on, we wouldn't want to leave the huddled masses waiting."

She grabbed her leather Chloe bag and my wrist and ushered us out of the bathroom. We stepped out into the bustling commons area and Rose sought out Emmett. She caught a glimpse of him near the exit doors.

Emmett leaned against the wall, making an obvious crotch grab as we walked over.

"Dammit Emmett, I have no fucking desire to watch you stroke your cock in my presence. Please, cut the shit while other people have to watch."

"You can ride this monster anytime you'd like Swan," he smiled, "And besides, how do you know other people don't want to watch?"

Rosalie draped herself over him and straddled his thigh. I made a gag face and walked off. I wasn't going to submit myself to their fucking nonsense this early. I wasn't drunk enough.

I stalked off to my French class and made it to my assigned seat before Dr. Fournier could bitch at me about being late. He quickly fell into his usual pronunciations and conjugations. The students around me studiously hacked and rolled their tongues in an attempt to make the perfect sounds.

I stared ahead disinterested. Just one of the few benefits of having a French mother, I could speak the language flawlessly. Fournier knew this and tried to get me into Spanish or Italian, but I bucked that. He was really just afraid that I'd correct him in front of the other shits in class.

He didn't know that I never even listened to his blather. And today was no different.

I leaned my head against the cool desktop and relished in the feeling against my flushed skin. The vodka was beginning to swim in my bloodstream and I calmed with the heavy sensation.

My arms hung limply at my sides, not bothering to cover the fact that I was on the verge of a quick nap. I looked around at the other warm bodies in the classroom. Each of us were dressed exactly the same. Girls in the approved navy pleat front skirt, crisp white button up, and hunter green cardigan with the Winthrop crest. The guys wore navy slacks, a white button up, plaid tie, and hunter green sweater vest.

We were all a fucking vision of conformity and privileged education.

Winthrop Academy, the best shit money could buy.

A forceful kick to the leg of my desk caused me to shift in my seat. I turned my heavy head towards the movement.

Eric Yorkie.

He spread his fingers into a wide V and ran his tongue 'seductively' between them. I could do little more than turn back to the front of class.

In a moment of weakness drunkenness, I'd allowed myself to be left alone with him, the unattractive son of a very rich and powerful man. After a second or two of him trying to gag me with his tongue and/or get my hand down the front of his Dockers, he decided he'd work his 'oral magic' and go down on me. He then proceeded to gnaw at my pussy for about ten minutes before I realized that we'd reached an impasse.

He was never going to get me off and I was never going to get those ten minutes of my life back.

I couldn't even fake an orgasm out of pity. I just pushed his face off of me and walked out of the room. As punishment for my lapse in drunken judgment, I've had to watch him air fuck me for going on two years now.

FML.

The fucking school was going to end me.

Marketing materials tout Winthrop Academy as the premier boarding school for the rich and famous, powerful and influential. A host of accolades and learning programs enticed parents to send their children here for an 'unparalleled learning experience.' Nestled one hundred miles outside of Seattle on the outskirts of the Olympic National Forest, this educational establishment has been enriching the minds of young people for 132 years.

In reality, they've been mind-fucking us all into thinking that any of this shit matters. Don't they realize that we're rich? We can buy our stations in society. They just need to fill our heads with the trivia necessary to get us through the SAT and onto college. From there we've just got to be able to tow the line and make it look believable to the other twits who did it before us.

I know how this monster works. I'll graduate and move on to college. I'll fuck up there; probably get arrested a few more times for public intoxication or maybe public indecency, before I graduate with honors. After that, I'll go and get married to another social climbing, emotionally unavailable man who may or may not be gay. He'll have a good name and even better bank account. We'll have babies that we'll love for about 15 minutes before our parents tell us we're doing it wrong and make us hand them over to their nannies. We'll then drink and hate each other until we wise up and fuck the pool boy or the nanny or both. We'll proceed getting older and he'll trade me in for something younger and I'll draw alimony checks until I dry up and die.

This is just the way things work.

No sense in sugar coating or idealizing.

That would be encouraging delusions and fuck knows there are enough of those around here.

Life here is monotonous. The Residentials live in two bedroom apartment style dorms. We eat, sleep and breathe these hallowed halls until the weekend. Then we are allowed to leave with our parents' permission. Luckily my mom doesn't give a fuck what I do so long as I don't tell my dad where she hides her nose candy. Needless to say, I spend Friday, Saturday, and Sunday elbow deep in liquor bottles and cigarette butts.

But where do we go if we aren't _allowed _to partake here at the Wint?

That's where Emmett comes in. He's a Day Schooler. The group of poor unfortunate souls who have to both live with their parents and attend school here.

They populate the towns and communities within driving distance. Many of them are here on scholarship, an effort for the Wint to appear altruistic and compassionate. When in reality, they are just setting a bunch of poor schmucks up for years of disappointment and self-loathing.

Emmett isn't here on scholarship. His parents, coal magnates from West Virginia, retired here and currently pay full tuition for him to come and fuck his girlfriend on the daily. We typically squat in his guest house for the duration of the weekend. His housekeeper hates us, but we all take turns slipping her a few hundred dollars for the effort. It's a small price to pay for a few nights away.

The nearest town is about thirty miles west of the campus and about a ten minute drive from the Casa de Emmett. Forks, Washington is an idyllic Northwestern town. Waterlogged and boring. There are few eateries – a greasy spoon, a Subway, and a gas station that serves hot dogs out of a big vat of pink hot dog water. Oh yeah, and a liquor store. But other than that, pickins' are slim.

There are a few kids from Forks that we converse with. Most of them are older and a majority of them are so boring that if it weren't for them supplying us, I think we'd all just drink until we passed out and Monday rolled around. They served their purpose though, getting our booze or the occasional dime bag when we needed them to.

And so my days go.

I fill up on fresh roasted coffee from the cafeteria (spiked with copious amounts of alcohol of course), go to class, listen to the vapid degenerates bitch and moan, go back to my room and finish out the day with a glass of milk (with Kahlua, naturally) and a Tylenol PM.

I couldn't suppress a groan when the bell sounded signaling lunch. Eric leaned over and did some heavy breathing in my ear before I elbowed him in the stomach. I grabbed the spiral notebook I toted around when I needed to feign interest and headed off to the dorms.

I'd spend the hour catching up on the last episode of The Real Housewives of Atlanta. Because that shit was hilarious. Especially over a steaming mug of coffee and Grand Marnier.

I rounded the corner toward the cafeteria but veered left towards the dorms. I was halfway to my destination when I heard the click of high heels on marble.

"Miss Swan," I heard a distinctly English voice call out. I grimaced, but adjusted it into a smile before I turned to the voice.

"Headmaster Young, is everything alright?"

"Where might you be headed during lunch period?"

"Oh, well, I mistakenly picked up my notebook for Calculus instead of Biology. I was just going to slip up to my room and retrieve it," I lied smoothly, holding up the spiral notebook and praying she didn't look into it. It was like a fucking prop from Superbad – nothing but dicks and balls from an earlier artistic moment. "Silly me. I was just in such a hurry to get to Dr. Warner's discussion about _The Lord of the Flies_ that I grabbed the wrong notebook."

I almost gagged at myself. I fucking hated being nice.

"Miss Swan, you realize you must have a pass to enter the dormitories during school hours."

"I do, but I was just hoping to slip up there and grab my notes. I would have made it back to lunch before the lines even died down."

The bitch was testing my patience. I could only play sweet for so long.

"I understand Miss Swan, but Rules of Conduct require that you have a pass. I'm sure you could ask your teacher this period to excuse you _with _a pass. Now please, go back to the lunch hall." She swept her hand in the direction of the cafeteria and waited expectantly for me walk away.

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from responding. Instead, I ground out a smile and tip toed back to lunch.

I was going to need that tequila soon.

---------

"Fuck you Rosalie Hale. Fuck you hard." I slammed my purse down on the countertop and hoisted myself to sit beside it.

Rosalie just smirked and proceeded to apply a fresh coat of mascara.

"Where's your purse?"

"I left it in Emmett's car." Her mouth was open and her eyes wide. I briefly considered stabbing her eye out with the mascara wand.

"What the fuck? I need to get drunk. You owe me… I had to eat lunch with Jessica Stanley!" I choked on the words. She was the worst. A ho-bag in every sense of the word. A low class, walking twat.

She just laughed and ignored my whining.

"Did you really? Leave it in the car I mean?" I kicked my legs petulantly.

"No, here." She produced her purse and flopped it into my lap.

"My preeecious." I smiled and clutched the bottle of Patron close to my chest.

"You hate tequila," Rosalie reminded.

"I do, but I love getting drunk at school. So I will love this bottle of tequila so long as it does what it was created to do."

"What get you fucking bombed in a matter of minutes?"

"Exactamundo." I twisted the cap and tipped it back. The thick liquid burned my throat and tasted like tequila, but it was getting the job done. After a few pulls, I was pleasantly pink.

"You need to comb your hair. Or were you trying to look bad?"

I glanced at myself in the mirror, I did look like shit. She handed me her comb and I pulled it through my dark hair.

"Well, I had to create something of a hair curtain. Eric Yorkie was in fine form during French."

"You fucked up major when you let that asshole near your twat. He's got the coochie fever," she laughed.

"I know. Trust. I am paying for it."

"Are you riding with us to Forks tomorrow or are you taking your car?"

"Can you assure me that there will be no road head?"

She rolled her eyes hard. "Yes, we will behave. You act like we fucking have sex every second of the day."

It was my turn to roll my eyes.

"You're right; you two are the picture of abstinence."

"Are you riding or not?"

"I'll probably take my car."

Rosalie pushed her makeup bag in my direction.

"Fix yourself. I don't associate with the ugly." She pushed me off of the counter and took my place with the Patron.

I would have ignored her, but I knew she was right.

Rosalie Hale, the genetically blessed spawn of a former Miss Universe and a European aristocrat. Her family had money going back as far as Mary and Joseph, probably further if you bothered looking. She had joined me in my quest to drink my way through high school our sophomore year. It wasn't long after that she met Emmett. A few heated arguments and a near beat down later, they started fucking and I've been fighting their public indecency ever since.

She was a rude bitch, but we stood up for each other. I didn't let her bitchface bother me too much and she put up with my near constant cynicism and all around complaining. We were good together. She made sure I came home at night and I bought her pregnancy tests when she inevitably wound up late.

So far we'd dodged that bullet, but that didn't mean Em didn't give getting her pregnant the ol' college try. He said that there was something sexy about a woman being barefoot and pregnant that turned him on. I think it had something to do with his roots in the genetically misguided hills of West Virginia.

I had seen _Deliverance_. I knew what that shit was all about.

Ok. So maybe _Deliverance_ was set in Georgia, but they are geographically proximate.

"Come on whore, we've got class to get to." Rose gathered up her makeup and tequila and shoved it into her bag. "You've got a cello to press between your thighs. We don't want Mama and Daddy Swan to be disappointed by a poor performance."

I just rolled my eyes and followed her out of the bathroom.

Mama and Daddy Swan.

More like Mommy Dearest and Daddy Distant.

Maxine Renée Desmarais Swan. The daughter of an old French family who made much of their money in energy, my mother has been given everything her teeny tiny heart desired since conception. She met my father in the 80s and they joined together in holy matrimony following the appearance of two pink lines on a pregnancy test. Careful timing and considerate hemlines allowed for the only gossip surrounding their marriage to be over their considerable age difference.

Renée is selfish, self-absorbed, and more temperamental than any human being should be. She doesn't work. Instead she spends much if not all of her time shopping, drinking, and playing dominos with a circulating group of rich men. She is an alcoholic and recreational drug user, but she keeps her shit together and doesn't embarrass the family too much.

Her approach to parenting has always been hands off. I was raised by three nannies. She can flip her shit in five different languages and has locked me in the maid's bedroom as punishment for misbehaving on more than one occasion. When I was finally old enough to attend boarding school, I was shipped off with a hug and a handshake.

She slipped in a bottle of diet pills and a carton of cigarettes just in case I started to get fat or stressed out.

It was one of the mostloving gestures she'd ever displayed and I almost shed a tear. Almost.

General Charles Fitzsimmons Swan. A now retired four-star general for the US Marine Corps, my father specializes in being the most overbearing and dysfunctional father figure to result from the Baby-boomer generation.

His family can trace their military service back to the Civil War. There is nothing more important to the Swan legacy than giving your absolute all to a cause. Fortunately for Charlie, he has been devious/fortunate/manipulative enough to hold the highest rank out of the group and with that comes a new level of ass kissing. Trust me when I say that his position and power has gone to his head. He throws around more weight than Kirstie Alley at a Jenny Craig convention. It comes in handy though. Like when I inevitably get picked up by the Forks PD for any number of misdemeanors, he can always manage to get me out of trouble.

Currently, Charlie serves as the Chief Security Advisor for a handful of energy and technology corporations worldwide. His sights are set on a National Security Administration position pending the inauguration of the newly elected President. Should he snag that position, he and Renée will move their permanent residence to Washington, D.C. and I'll get a firm reprimand for my uncomely behavior.

What this really means is that I'll be getting a new car and an increase in my 'allowance.' Because if Charlie knows anything, it's that he'll have to grease a few palms to keep up appearances.

But that sort of paints me in a poor light doesn't it…

I'm not terrible.

Just terribly bored.

Terribly under stimulated.

Terribly inappropriate.

Terribly attracted to the fast life.

Too bad for me, the Northwestern Peninsula has nothing by way of fast paced. Unless of course you count the speed of gossip.

That travels at the speed of light.

Even without the internet in every home.

Or cable.

Or even a fucking satellite dish.

How these people can function without copious amounts of alcohol I'll never understand.

And now me.

Isabella Marie Swan. I've been pampered since I was born. Grand-mère Desmarais had me swaddled in the finest French silks and fed with the proverbial silver spoon. She stayed with Renée until she felt confident that she wouldn't drop me on my head or leave me in the dressing room at Neiman Marcus. It was downhill from there.

I began my educational career at the age of one and a half. Renée was tired of trying to communicate with a baby, so she sent me to a speech therapist. Following the wild success of that venture, I was enrolled in prep school after prep school depending on our location around the world.

I like to think that my exposure to different types of people has attributed to my cynicism and overall disinterest. Many teens pine for a time when they can get away from their tiny social circles and find a group that actually 'gets' them. What I've found is that people everywhere suck. There are no surprises and no perfect fits. Just a more comfortable rapport with someone almost as awful as yourself.

I would like to make it all my parents fault, but it's not. It's just the way it is and this is just the way I am. My therapist once said that my parents 'love language' was giving gifts. They had shoved shiny toy after shiny tennis bracelet after shiny car in my direction for as long as I could remember.

But it works for us.

I make sure my grades don't slip below a solid B.

I go to whatever school they send me and don't get kicked out.

I make sure to practice and excel on the cello so they have something to brag about.

I show up for major holidays and pose for pictures.

I make sure to do something ridiculous and criminal every now and again just to keep them on their toes.

All in all I love my parents. I love them as much as the next person. I mean come on. They _have_ suffered at my expense.

My mom did birth me. Thirty-eight weeks of being unable to drink or smoke or pop pills was unbearable for her, or so I've been told by her personal assistant Charlotte. She was forced to walk around with horrendous stretch marks for months following my grand entrance into this fucked up world. She did undergo a tummy tuck and tit lift to repair the damage that _I'd _done.

Hell, she even joined the PTA for a half-hour when I was seven.

That was until she was asked to disassociate following an incident where cussed out the Room Mom in Portuguese _and _French in front of my entire class. The situation was sparked by a bit of bitchtastic attitude from Sandy's mom, Mrs. Kepler regarding Renée's choice of blue cupcakes for the St. Patrick's Day party.

After that, I resolved to the fact that Renée just wasn't one of those moms.

And I wasn't one of those kids who needed her around all of the time.

Now Charlie has most certainly suffered in different ways. He had to get married. He had to pretend that he didn't want to be off toting large weapons and bossing around subordinates in other countries. He had to watch Full Metal Jacket on mute with the closed captioning on so that I couldn't repeat R. Lee Ermey's famous lines. That lasted until I was six and I asked Daniel Weintraub if he was born a fat, slimy, scumbag puke piece o' shit, or did he have to work on it?

From that point on, my father suffered from being forced to constantly rescue me from either my mouth, my fist, or my spending habits. Only once did he have to rescue me from all three. He is a shit for not being around like a normal father, whatever that means, and for shipping me off to fucking boarding school, but I can't blame him entirely. He never signed on for fatherhood. He just stuck his dick in the wrong coochie.

But that is all I'm going to say about that.


	2. Mike Newton's Mom is a Cougar

SM owns. I just dabble.

* * *

Chapter 2

The beat up cowbell clanged against the glass door as Ms. Clearwater entered the gas station.

She greeted me boisterously as she walked to the coolers and asked me when I was going to be coming back over for dinner. She promised to make me Velvetta Shells and Cheese with bacon on top. I sort of laughed awkwardly and put down the textbook I had been thumbing through. I shoved my notebook under the counter.

"What are you studying for Edward?" She set down a few Coke bottles and a pack of beef jerky.

I just waived my hand dismissively and punched prices into the cash register.

"You know Leah could help you with," Sue tilted her head and read the cover of my textbook, "_Anatomy_ if you needed it. You kids sure spend enough time together. Maybe you should consider asking her for a study session. She is really bright."

I tried to ignore the overtly sexual thoughts that were careening through my head. Sue didn't need to think of me as an asshole _and _a pervert.

"It's really no big deal, Ms. Clearwater. I've just got a little extra homework. Nothing I can't handle. Did you want the gas and snacks all on the same receipt?"

"Yeah, and throw a pack of Pall Malls in there too," she smiled sheepishly.

I reached behind me and tugged down a soft pack. I shoved everything into a paper bag and ran her credit card. We waited as the ancient technology processed the transaction. I stared at the machine to avoid having to talk to her about Leah. I didn't want to talk about her.

Seth bounced through the door to interrupt the silence.

"Ma, my God, you think you'd come in here to do your taxes. What the hell is taking so long? Oh hey Edward."

I lifted my chin to greet him as the paper receipt inched out of the machine.

"Shut up and go sit in the car Seth. I'm on my way out." She signed with a flourish of her pen and grabbed her purchases. "Now Edward, if I don't see you this week at my dinner table, I'm going to take it personally."

I cringed internally. She was making this whole thing difficult.

I gave her a tight smile and nodded. "We wouldn't want that."

She smiled back and headed back outside, yelling at Seth as soon as her feet hit the blacktop.

It wasn't an hour later that Leah walked in.

Her black hair was down and shining at me. Her black eyes were friendly as she waltzed over to the register. She leaned over the counter, her elbows bent and her head resting in her hands. Her long legs spread wide and suggestively. She chewed on her bottom lip.

"Hey Edward," she purred, "I've missed you."

"I saw you last night. How can you miss me after 19 hours?"

I busied myself with wiping down the countertop and rearranging the lottery slips.

"Edward, I could never get enough of you." Her voice was husky and making me damn guilty.

I moved my attention to the cigarette case behind me. I grabbed a carton and started refilling the empty slides.

Leah reached over the counter and grabbed me by my belt loop. I didn't turn to her and she huffed.

"Edward, when do you get off?" I could hear her bracelets knock together as she whipped her hair around.

"Not for a while."

"Can you call Jasper? Maybe he could take over your shift?"

"He has to work at the other store today."

She huffed again.

"Do you think he could pick me up a handle of Mr. Boston? I want to get it before everyone bombards him tomorrow. There is supposed to be a party down at La Push," she paused and tapped her fingernails against the acrylic counter protector, "Do you want to come with me?"

"I don't know Leah, you'll have to ask him. I don't dabble in supplying alcohol to the underaged."

"Oh Edward, you're such a straight edge," she laughed.

She'd been watching_ Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist_ again.

"But for real, you want to join me? I can promise you some hot, drunken sex by the end of the night."

"Look Leah, I've got a lot of work to do here. Can I just meet up with you this evening?"

Her eyes got all excited and I felt even more guilty.

"I'll be at Quil's until ten. After that, you'll have to ride out to the Rez."

"Alright. I'll see you sometime before ten then."

She looped her fingers through my belt loop again and pulled me towards her. I turned around and she was staring up at me with those crazy dark eyes.

"Give me a kiss for the road," she sighed.

I leaned down and dropped a kiss on her forehead. She caught me by the neck before I could lift my head completely and pressed her lips hard against mine.

She tasted like over ripened watermelon. Sticky and too sweet.

"I'll see you Edward," She traipsed back out of the store, her stupid schoolgirl uniform flouncing around the russet colored skin of her legs.

-----

I could hear Jasper's gravel laugh through the wall. Too many cigarettes and too many late nights left his voice that way. It made him sound wise, but I knew he was just an idiot who stayed out late drinking and smoking.

It was just before seven and more people were starting to filter in and out of the liquor store. I could hear the heavy door swing open and closed. It scratched a loose arch into the concrete floor. There was a jingle bell on the door and it sounded better than the jarring clatter of the cowbell.

I really needed to talk to him.

I needed him to explain how this was going to go down. He always knew exactly how things were going to happen. The way a girl would respond or whether the guy would throw a left or right hook. He just knew it and I needed to know.

I propped open the door and tucked the portable phone into my back pocket. I threw a glance down the 101 and walked into the store next door. I swung the door open and stood in the doorway so that I had a clear view of the store register.

Jasper was hunched over a box restocking the shelves near the coolers.

"Hey, I need to talk to you." I could hear the rumble of an approaching car. It passed without slowing.

"Talk to me then," he said groaning as he picked up the heavy box.

"It's about Leah."

"Is she pregnant?" His head didn't lift from what he was doing. Bottles rattled together as he twisted the labels to face out.

"No," I replied curtly, "I am going to break up with her." I ran a nervous hand through my hair and looked back down the street.

"And you want my permission or my forgiveness?"

"I want your advice." My voice came out strained. He was really going to make me beg for this.

"Ok, I advise you to be straight, to the point, and don't try to be too nice about it."

"I've never broken up with anyone. What is too nice?"

He looked up at me with his lazy blue eyes and tucked some of his long hair behind his ears. He always looked like a girl when he did that.

"Sometimes I forget you're still a boy," he sighed.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You've got so many firsts ahead of you." He brushed past me with the empty cardboard box and grabbed a box cutter from behind the counter. He ran it through the shiny seam of tape and broke the box down flat.

"Whatever Grandpa, get to the part where you tell me how this is going to go down. Skip the sentimental shit."

He grabbed a new lighter off of the counter and nodded his head towards to door. I followed him outside. He sat down on the curb and lit a cigarette. I ran my hand over the beginnings of a hole at the knee of my jeans.

"Why are you breaking up with her?"

"Because we are too different."

"Opposites attract." He puffed his cigarette, holding it between his thumb and middle finger.

"We don't. She is annoying and hyper sexualized. She wants to talk about the dumbest shit and she is all of the time drinking and being stupid."

"She is acting like a seventeen year old. You should consider trying it."

"I'm eighteen."

"Going on 108. And for fucks sake, what does hyper sexualized even fucking mean?"

"Just because I'm not a social deviant doesn't mean I'm… forget it. This conversation isn't worth having." I stood up and Jasper grabbed me by my wrist. The cherry of his cigarette was dangerously close to my skin.

"Sit down. Stop being such an asshole."

I sat down. "I hardly consider myself the asshole in this situation."

He snorted. "You never do."

We sat in silence as he finished his cigarette.

"You can't go into the conversation half-assed. You have to stand firm. Let her know that there is no changing your mind. There is no changing your mind, right?"

I shook my head. There was definitely no changing my mind.

"Well, in my professional opinion, I'd say to send her a text," he waggled his eyebrows at me, "But in my personal opinion, just tell her that the relationship isn't going anywhere. That you've really thought it through and you want to end it now. I mean, you've only been dating for a few months right? So just don't take it too far. Don't over explain. Don't sugarcoat. Don't let her think you can change your mind. And don't, not matter what you do, say _it's not you, it's me_."

I started to formulate a plan, write a script. I let the words rattle around in my head. I honestly didn't want to hurt her, but _shit_ I couldn't handle it anymore.

Jasper's cell phone started to ring inside.

_I ain't asking you to turn off the sunshine, no__  
__And I ain't asking you to turn water into wine, no__  
__I'm not asking you to, to fly__  
__I'm just asking you to, save me_

He moved slowly, getting up and walking back inside. "Good luck little brother."

I just gave a tight nod and sat stone still.

I heard him in there talking to Alice. I knew it was her without hearing her voice. The way he talked to Alice was unlike anything else. I tried not to look into it too much. You always did best not to read into Jasper too much. You'd just wind up confused as hell and broke.

Jasper is five years older than me. He was born in June. He is like my father. All legs and eyes and comforting words. After Mama died, he'd let me sleep on a palate in his room. He didn't let me sleep in the bed because he said he didn't want me to be a pussy. That he didn't want me to be above roughing it. I was eight and didn't even know what a pussy was, but I slept on that floor with my Transformers blanket and pillowcase. I cried sometimes and his hand would fall down and stroke the top of my head, making me feel infinitesimally better. But sometimes that's all you need. Just a little bit more than what you've got.

Jasper and I aren't anything alike. He is smooth and calculating. He is the life of the party and people like him. He made terrible grades in school, opting to have fun rather than claw his way out of Forks.

That is part of the reason why he works at a liquor store. The other part is that he makes good money selling product under the table to minors. That was probably more of the reason why everyone liked him. Outside of the occasional bouts of wisdom, he was a manipulative asshole.

How many times had I been conned into picking him up or dropping him off or giving him money or my lunch or my clothes?

It was only a matter of time and I'd be free from his constant neediness.

I heard the crunch of tires on pavement as Ms. Newton's car pulled in to the station. I stood up and started to walk back inside.

"I'm getting twenty bucks worth Edward," she called out and stepped out of her rusty red Buick.

"Ok, I'll get it going." I punched the keypad behind the counter and authorized the pump. I snapped the portable phone back into its cradle and sat down on the stool.

The wall calendar behind my head fluttered as a cool evening breeze blew through the open door. I cast my eyes on the Midwestern landscape featured for the month of October. Dad's birthday was coming up quickly. A big red balloon was drawn over the 13th. He was going to be 41 years old.

Carlisle Cullen is a good man. He is a hard working man. He is a good father and an even better friend. Always willing to lend advice, he always has a kind word to give. Unless he'd been drinking. Then he might pick a fight. I'd only seen him get into it once. Someone made a comment about my mother at a Fourth of July BBQ and he reacted instinctively. He pinned the dude to the ground and shoved his elbow against his windpipe. My mother huffed and pulled and finally managed to get him off of the guy and into the car.

Nowadays, Dad runs the gas station. He keeps me on staff to work after school lets out and he pays me a dollar over minimum wage. In turn, it is my responsibility to keep an eye on Jasper and his bootlegging as to ensure he doesn't get arrested on site. The police around here have tried to find a reason to handcuff Jasper since he was 13 and went on a graffiti spree. He managed to spray paint four of the five cop cars without getting caught. They've been out to get him since.

My father was a good man, but I didn't want to be anything like him. He was stuck here taking care of a decrepit gas station and reckless son. He had the potential to be anything he wanted. He was extremely intelligent, good looking, good natured… he was the whole package.

But he was too good.

My mother got pregnant with Jasper when she was 18. Rather than leave her holding the proverbial bag, he stuck by her. Married her. Slaved at a timber company so that they could afford food and rent and electricity. He let a full ride scholarship to the University of Washington slip through his fingers just so that he could say he did the right thing.

I'd never be able to do that.

I was too selfish.

Too controlled.

Too desperate to get out of here.

Where I lacked the social graces that my father and Jasper shared, I made up for in intelligence and drive. Where my father was content with living in poverty and in want, I was committed to break out of this vicious cycle. I was going to get out of here, if it was the _last_ thing I did.

And Leah was complicating things.

She wanted more from me than I was willing to give.

She wanted more of me than I was capable of.

She wanted me to be happy and carefree and promiscuous and wild.

She wanted me to not try so hard in school so that she could spend more time with me.

She wanted me to work less, but that meant less money in my savings account.

She wanted me to hold her hand and tell her that our futures were intertwined, that we had forever.

But we didn't.

Forever fucked things up. The future fucked things up.

If we only had right now, I may have considered her. But my future couldn't be interrupted. It couldn't be disrupted. Because if I had to stay in Forks forever…

I can't even consider what that would mean.

So I studied. I went to school everyday. I came to work every night. I prepared for life after graduation. I prepared for college and challenges and what I could have when I wasn't the unfortunate, motherless son of a gas station clerk who could have been something way back when he was worth something.

Ms. Newton sashayed in and plunked a twenty dollar bill down on the counter. I rang her out and handed her a receipt.

"So Edward, you celebrated your 18th birthday recently didn't you?" she hummed.

"It's been a few months ago, but yeah. I'm old enough to buy cigarettes and scratch offs."I replied thumbing towards the rack behind me, not really sure where she was going with this.

It didn't take me long to realize.

She leaned over the counter, her large round breasts practically spilled out of her small shirt. Her red nail beckoned me closer. I tilted my head closer, but did not move from my perch on the stool.

"I think as a man, there are a few things I could teach you," she purred.

My stomach turned. This was Michael Fucking Newton's mom. The same woman who served me ice cream cake at every single birthday party he had between the ages of 4 and 13. The same woman who served on the PTA and patched up the mascot's uniform when it was destroyed during a school brawl.

"Ms. Newton, I'm …" I choked out, unsure how to proceed. "Ms. Newton, I think I need to learn a few things on my own. You know, with my _peers_."

Her face didn't register rejection, only smugness. "Edward, when you realize that those _peers_ of yours are just as clueless as you are, you know where to find me."

And with that she walked back out to her busted ass Buick.

I shook my head and considered banging it against the counter.

Mike Newton's mom is a cougar.

------

I was so damn nervous. Jasper's land yacht rode smoothly, but my overly sensitive stomach was tied up and nauseated. I took a wide turn and could barely make out the small brick house at the end of the street. It was all lit up and there were several cars parked in the yard.

I hated it when people parked their car in our yard.

It was just rude.

My anxious fingers drummed against the steering wheel and I cruised to a stop. I carefully parked the car a house down so that I could be sure I got the hell out of there when the deed was done.

There was no room for error here.

I wasn't in the yard good before Leah was bounding down the porch steps. That ridiculous, preppy schoolgirl uniform fluttered around her as she ran towards me.

I braced myself for impact. She crashed into me and her hands and lips were all over my face.

"Leah… please stop… really."

"What is it now Edward?" She stopped kissing me, but didn't take her hands out of my hair. Her face was almost touching mine and I couldn't make good eye contact because she was too close and I couldn't focus.

"We need to talk."

She huffed and walked toward Jasper's car.

"No, we need don't. You're too serious." She yanked on the door handle and it was locked. She stood waiting by the door and I could see the orange streetlight reflecting against the onyx that was her hair.

That was one thing I could never get over. How shiny her hair was. Not just hers, but Jacob's, Quil's, Embry's. It was like black glass. Long and liquid.

"Yes we do."

"Well, can we do it from the backseat?" she grinned at me.

"No. We can't."

Her lip curled up and her black eyes rolled.

"Did Jasper send my stuff?" She leaned down and cupped her hands on either side of her face as she peered through the car window.

"He did. It's in the trunk. You'll have to get it though. I don't have anything to do with his_ transactions_."

"Don't be such a prude Edward," she chided. She knocked her knuckles against the light green paint of the trunk. I walked to her and fished the key ring from my pocket. The bottle opener nicked my thumb.

Damn alcoholics.

I unlocked the trunk and she pulled out the paper box with a few bottles in it. She pushed a wad of cash towards me.

I held my hands up, palms out. "I'm not involved remember. Put it in the glove box."

She laughed at me like I was making a joke and took the keys out of the lock. She propped the box on pale cloth top of the car and slipped the cash into the glove box.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?"

I looked around at our dark surroundings and figured that this was as good a spot as any.

"Leah, I don't think we should see each other anymore."

Her black eyebrows knit together. Apparently she wasn't expecting this at all.

"Look, we want different things in life. I don't see our relationship going anywhere and I think it would be best for us both if we just ended it now, before we get anymore emotionally involved."

Keep it short. To the point. Don't over explain.

Her mouth just flapped opened and closed. Her eyes wide in disbelief. I felt like an asshole.

Who was I kidding. I was never going to get emotionally involved with her. I only ever went out with her so that Jasper would quit calling me gay. And because she was making herself look bad, constantly coming to the store for packs of Wrigley's gum and Red Bull. I mean come on, everyone knew why she went up there all of the time.

"What the FUCK Edward Cullen? Are you motherfucking breaking up with me?" She was screeching.

"Yes, and you don't have to scream at me." I sounded like a pussy.

"You motherfucking asshole. You slimy fucking piece of fucking shit. You fucking cunt-avoiding, limp dick fucking fucker."

Wow. Had to be some sort of record there.

I cringed. She was getting loud.

"Look Leah, it doesn't have to be all confrontational. We can still be friends, you're a great girl and all, but…"

"But what you douchebag? But fucking what?"

I saw Quil step out onto the porch, his freakishly tall frame caused a disruption in the orange glow of the porch light.

"Stop fucking yelling at me. I'm trying to be nice here."

"Hah!" She put a hand on each of my shoulders and I thought for a second she was going to headbutt me. "I will fucking yell until every damn one of these fucking neighbors come outside. I want them to fucking hear me when I fucking rip you a new asshole, you pole smoking motherfucker."

Now she was just getting ridiculous.

"I can see that this isn't going to get any better," I sighed and tried to remove her hands from my shoulders, "I'm sorry things couldn't work between us Leah."

And I was. But I wasn't sorry enough to stay with her and lead anyone on.

Her fingers wrenched down on my shoulder and I wanted to elbow her or something to get her off. One hand loosened and without warning, a hard fist connected with the flesh of my cheekbone.

"You bitch! You fucking hit me!" I screamed holding my cheek. I briefly considered giving her a slap to the tit or something equally juvenile.

"You motherfucking bet I did. You're lucky I didn't kick you in the balls you asshole bitch! I hope you enjoy your lonely fucking senior year you… you… fucked up loser."

And with that, she threw my keys into the dark. My only inclination as to their location when I heard a light jangling thump that resonated in the quiet night.

She grabbed her box of booze and laughed maniacally as she ran inside.

Shit. How the hell was I supposed to find three keys and a bottle opener in the dark?

I sulked and walked in the direction of the sound. I flipped my cell phone open and hoped to get lucky.

I don't know what I was thinking.

I never got lucky.

* * *

Enjoy and review if you really enjoyed. :D


	3. Pretty Couldn't Fix That

**I don't own Twilight or any of the characters. Stephanie Meyer does and she probably doesn't like me screwing with them.  
**

* * *

The sound of an annoying ass hair dryer woke me up. Rose kept fucking dropping something and it was making a hell of a lot of noise. Then I heard giggling. Then I heard an '_oh stop it' _followed by more giggling.

Fucking horny assed teenagers.

I threw back my toasty down comforter and slid gracelessly out of bed. It was ALWAYS too fucking early for this. I wrenched open my bedroom door and there stood Rose and Emmett, wrapped around one another, a blow dryer hanging limply from Rose's hand. I couldn't tell what the other was wrapped around, but judging by the half dazed look on his face, it was his dick.

"What did we say?" I asked, all _The Devil Wears Prada _quiet.

Rose sheepishly wiped her mouth and looked over at me. Her eyes all squinty like she was trying to recall the square root of Pi. Emmett on the other hand had his other hand shoved up the back of her little bath towel wrap robe thing. I almost saw ass cheek.

"What did we say?" I asked again.

Rose pinched her lips together to stop a smile. "We agreed that you wouldn't get a perm." She gestured towards my hair which was currently pointing in the same direction of Emmett's dick – straight up. I'd gone to bed with it wet, what can you expect?

I shook my head.

"But we were being quiet." Her voice was extremely annoying when I was half asleep, half hungover, and half horny.

"No you weren't. What were you fucking doing anyway? It sounded like remodeling."

"I was trying to get ready." _Trying_ being the operative word there.

"Right, well, my twat was getting the Royal Treatment from Prince Hot Ginge, but you so totally fucked that one up for me. So now I'm fucking awake," I glanced at my alarm clock, "Eighteen minutes before I'm supposed to be and I'm horny as fucking hell."

Rosalie tried to look sympathetic and apologetic, but Emmett's current fondling left her looking like she was about to seize. He was sucking on her neck. I was a little jealous.

"I could help you Swan," he murmured into her collarbone, "And if you won't let me, I _know_ Yorkie will."

"Thanks for the tempting offer, but I would rather walk around with a bad case of violet vulva. Now please, give me sixteen more minutes of peace."

I made it back to my bed, but never back to sleep. There was a throb that I was just too tired and aggravated to twiddle away. I just laid there staring at the crappy popcorn ceiling until my cell phone alarm started to go off.

I managed a shower and my hair and getting dressed in a decent amount of time. The two lovebirds had managed to stop sticking it in each other long enough for Rose to get dressed and primped. They both sat chastely holding hands and staring expectantly at me.

"What?" I asked, bitchy for no real reason.

They just smiled and shook their heads.

"Are we ready to go? I really need some coffee." I grabbed my notebook and purse. Emmett slid something inside.

"What was that?" I asked as we walked out into the hall, door closing smoothly behind us.

"Just a gift," he shrugged, all dimples and shit.

I squinted hard at him.

"Why are you giving me a gift?"

"It's nothing really. I swear. I just thought you'd like it."

I looked at Rose and she shrugged, her blonde hair pooling perfectly across over her shoulders.

I fished out said 'gift'. It was a flask. A sterling silver flask. I looked up at him and he was grinning excitedly.

"A flask?" I sounded incredulous. Kind of the way you would if your mom gave you a box of condoms. Like all, 'Why mom, I'm not a slut? I don't even have sex', when you both know you are and you do.

Emmett rolled his pretty blue eyes. "Hell yeah, look at the engraving."

I shook it a little. It had something in it for sure; I could hear a sloshing sound. They got extra gift giving points if it was good vodka.

I flipped it over in my hands and on the other side, in small block letters, read _Tolerance Juice_.

I laughed out loud.

"It's perfect," I hugged him around his big, thick neck, "But you still can't have sex in front of me when I'm sober."

"Well, it was worth a shot you cockblocking cunt."

----------

I'd already emptied my new juice box by lunch. It only held about four ounces or so, so I would just consider that pregame for this weekend's festivities. It was Friday and I was headed to Emmett's as soon as school got out. My bags were packed and I could feel debauchery in my future.

I met Rose in the hall as usual and we made our way into the cafeteria. Emmett was already sitting at our table talking to Yorkie. My shoulders rounded and my eye actually twitched as we walked over to where they were.

"Bella, my sweet, how I've missed your taste. I'm looking to reliving our special night soon." He attempted to sound sexy and his tongue made a slow sweep of his upper lip. I fought a gag, but still retched a little. Emmett laughed at my expense and I made a mental note to slip him a roofie or something.

"Go jack off in a corner, Eric. If I wanted to relive our _special_ night, I'd just let a Chihuahua loose on my vagina. Now go fucking sit down somewhere else." I yanked out a chair and plopped myself down.

"So you'll admit what we had was special. This is real progress, ma belle."

"No, what I'll admit is that your cunnilingus skills are seriously fucked up and completely ineffective. And for you, real progress would be if you were able to eat someone out without forcing them to consider becoming a nun."

"Bella," Emmett chided, "Play nice."

"I am. If I weren't, he'd be holding an ice pack to the spot his dick used to hang from."

I watched Eric pale visibly and walk away. Then I turned an evil eye on Emmett.

"Don't encourage that shit Em. He fucking makes me want to like stop bathing and grow a unibrow in hopes he'd leave me the hell alone," I shook with disgust. Rosalie reprimanded him, but it sounded more like verbal foreplay.

"Are you eating?" I asked Rosalie.

"I'm just going to eat something off of Emmett's plate."

"Will you get me like some extra fries or something?" I asked him. "I'm going to go refill my juice box." I grinned and patted the breast pocket of my blazer.

Rosalie pushed her purse over to me and I headed for the bathroom.

I walked into the girls' room and there were a few day schooler's in some sort of huddle. I thought maybe I'd walked in on the female version or a circle jerk, but as soon as I heard crying, I decided it must have been something else.

I eyed the group warily, but had no desire to get involved. I sidestepped into the stall and began the very tedious process of refilling the silver flask. The hole was rather small and the small bottle of 151 Rose had hidden away in her purse had a large opening. In order to not spill it all over myself and smell like I'd bathed in liquor, I had to pour really slowly.

"I fucking hate him," I heard the crying girl exclaim, "I fucking loved him."

_Boy trouble._ I put the bottle to my lips and took a shot for her and her shitty heartbreak.

Ok, so maybe it was really for me and the fact that I had to sit in here and listen to her shitty heartbreak sobfest.

Stop judging me.

"He gives me the best five months of my life, not to mention the best sex of my life," my ears perk at the sex part, "and now he gives me the whole_ it's not you, it's me_ bullshit." I wanted to laugh. Boys were such assholes.

"I think you're confusing love and lust my dear," another voice whispered, which caused Crybaby to snort and blow her nose.

"There is no way I will ever get fucked like that again. He played me like an instrument. There is no confusion there."

_Mee-ow. What's this newly single guy's name? _

I licked the little dribbles off of the side of the flask. Remember what the housekeeper lady said on _101 Dalmatians_… waste not want not. I took a quick swig for the road and closed everything up before flushing the toilet for effect.

I crept out of the stall and over to the sinks to wash my hands. The circle of girls had opened a little and I could make out Leah Cleary or Clearbright or Clearwhatever's shiny black hair. She caught me looking and cut her eyes.

"What are you looking at?"

I just shrugged my shoulders and looked back in front of me. I'd learned my lesson long ago not to mess with mentally unstable bitches if it could be avoided. And Leah was a little wild eyed at the moment. I smeared on a little lip gloss and walked back out.

"Mission accomplished," I smiled as I returned Rose's purse. I grabbed the paper basket of french fries off of Em's tray and emptied a few packets of ketchup.

"You need to eat something to sop up some of that liquor. I can fucking smell it in your pores," Rose bitched. I lifted my arm to my nose and the strong oaky smell of the 151 I'd just been pouring greeted me.

"I must have spilled some on me."

"Yeah, no, it is on your breath something heavy," Emmett confirmed, turning his head away from me and shoving my fries closer to me.

The fast acting miracle that is Bacardi 151 was kicking in. I shoved fistfuls of fries in my mouth because fuck knows I didn't need to be stumbling drunk. Maybe I got too carried away, but between whatever was in the flask when it was delivered by my alcoholic fairy friends and the few shots of rum I'd taken in the bathroom, I was well on my way to sloppy.

I always seem to forget the potency of high proof liquor.

"So, we're meeting at my house at like four. Jasper is bringing the goods and we're just going to see where things go from there. There is a possibility of a bonfire down at the shore," he leaned into us and whispered all covert and whatnot. He was always so paranoid that the Horde would find out and show up ready to party. "You driving yourself, Swan?"

I nodded and gave him a slow thumbs up.

"You better buck up lady. I don't want to deal with your pathetic ass until much later."

The lunch bell rang, dismissing us back to our classes.

"Come on lightweight," Rose offered her arm, "You better straighten up. You know Banner can smell under-aged drunkenness from a mile away." I stood straighter and walked on lazy legs towards my Biology class. She pushed me through the door and swatted my ass.

I walked back to my seat near the back of class and proceeded to press my flushed cheeks to the cool slab of the lab table. I heard the grating sounds of the stools being pulled out as people filtered into class. Mr. Banner's voice boomed as he walked into the room, calling us all to order.

I sat up and tried to ignore the woozy spinning. He went right into lecture and I pretended to take studious notes. I think I was really just drawing loopy renditions of penises and birds.

Why? I have no idea. You do fucked up shit when you're drunk.

Remember Britney's Head Shaving Extravaganza?

'Nuff said.

Not far into our lecture on Whothehellknowsology, Mr. Banner sent us out to collect something from the small creek that ran by the building. So the classroom slowly, and less than enthusiastically, trekked out into the humidity and mire. I walked carefully behind a group of girls and hoped I wasn't too obvious.

They were talking about Leah and her breakup.

My drunken curiosity was piqued. I wanted to know more about this _Edward _and his dick of many talents.

From what I could gather while eavesdropping and attempting not to go face first into the murky creek, Leah was more pissed than heartbroken. Apparently, she was plotting some sort of public humiliation and was trying to convince some of her friends to jump Edward at a gas station.

It all sounded really classy to me.

After the precarious collection of a water sample, we were heading straight back to class. Banner shuffled us into groups and I was unhappily paired with Felix Payne and my most favorite STD carrier, Tyler Crowley.

One of two things were going to happen as a result of our fortuitous pairing. I would be expelled for maiming Tyler with a Bunsen burner after he groped my ass or I would be expelled for underage drinking.

I decided to take the pacifist route and took a covert swig from my flask. There was no way my nerves or Tyler would come out of this alive if I went unassisted.

"Bella, Bella, Bella," Tyler purred as he got all up on me, "When are we going to get together again? I'm getting bored with these other girls. You were such a challenge."

"Since when did you like a challenge?" I asked, flipping my hair over one shoulder, stepping out from in front of his STD farm and smiling sweetly. "You always seemed to like the easy type. You know, the ones who don't even bother getting up off of their knees in between Johns."

He laughed heartily and poor Felix just shuffled around and busied himself with a microscope and slides.

"You're a hellcat, Bella Swan." I turned to look at him and fought the urge to gag as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

"And you're a medical miracle, Tyler Crowley. All of those STDs and your dick is still attached," I smiled smartly at him and looked back to Felix, "So, Felix, tell me what you've got."

I spent the following hour holding myself up as to not lose an eye to the microscope lens and keeping the less than deterred Crowley out from underneath my skirt.

Minutes before the bell, Banner let us clear our tables and wait for our dismissal. I pulled my Blackberry out of my bag and texted Rose.

_Am drunk. Cannot drive._

I waited for her response.

_Shit. Emmett and I skipped. Already at his place._

I cursed under my breath and replied.

_What the fuck am I supposed to do? I can hardly fucking stand up. _

_You're texting well enough._

_Years of practice. _

_You're the idiot who got fucking sloshed. Let me see what Emmett can work out. Just be aware-you're twatblocking. I have half a mind to let you sleep it off there._

I waited impatiently for her to arrange for alternate transportation. Finally the bell rang and I slipped out of the classroom as inconspicuously as possible. My last class of the day, P.E., would have to miss me this fine Friday afternoon because there was no way I would be able to participate in any physical activity. I ninja stalked through the halls and luckily made it to the dorms with no interference.

I fell onto my unmade bed and fought against the spinning in my head. I flipped on the TV and found a rerun of _Flipping Out_. I giggled at Jeffrey and Zoila's antics until a buzzing sound erupted from my purse. I fished out my cell and opened Rose's text.

There was a picture of an old green pimp mobile, a rag top land yacht from the like 70s. I squinted hard and scrolled down to the message.

_Jasper will bring you here. This is his car. Be in the lot at 3:00 or he'll leave your ass. _

-----

I looped my arm through my leather duffel bag and hobbled out into the freckled sunlight. I referred back to the picture of my ride.

I snorted a little when its fabulousness graced my screen, like I'd miss that heap amid the automotive gems that filled the parking lot. It wasn't long before I saw a car turn into the long drive. And, like something out of a bad movie, I heard the car before I got a good look at it. The deep rumble of its engine and the light squeak of the shocks further alerted me to its approach.

If I really thought I could pass a sobriety test, I'd have traipsed right over to my Volvo and gotten the fuck out of Dodge. But seeing as I was currently struggling to stay upright, I decided to stay put. _Jasper_ and his death trap could drive me to Forks.

The last bell rang as the car wound up the road leading to the private lot and the Day Schoolers started to filter out. I fidgeted impatiently and dreaded having other people see me getting into the Green Goblin. It didn't say much for my taste in cars or chauffeurs.

Bold silver letters stretched across the front of the vehicle as it rolled to a stop in front of me.

_Continental _

"You Bella?" A blonde guy asked from inside of the car.

I nodded. "You Jasper?"

He nodded. "You and your stuff can go in the back seat." He jerked his thumb behind him and looked back towards the dash, effectively dismissing me.

I tried not to go into bitch mode once I was relegated to the back seat. Jasper could thank the alcohol in my system for that. I reached for the door handle and met air. I looked down and realized the handle was on the wrong side.

Fucking Suicide Doors.

I snatched open the door and threw my bag in before sliding in along side it. I heard an _oof_ from inside and I jerked my head in the direction of the noise.

There, stretched lazily across the putrid green leather upholstery was another hobo. He was wearing worn out jeans and a t-shirt. He had a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and he didn't even look up at me.

I muttered some half-assed apology for abusing him with my luggage as I carefully moved along the bench seat, avoiding getting tetanus from the scary interior. The heavy doors slammed closed and I wrapped the seatbelt across my middle and snapped it.

We just sat there. Jasper looking straight ahead and Hobo covering his face and quivering against the door.

"So… we just going to stay here?" I asked, my voice lazy.

"We've got to pick someone else up," Jasper replied casting his eyes at me from the rearview mirror.

Hobo just sighed heavily, hand still over his face, and kicked the back of Jasper's seat. I quirked an eyebrow, but just slipped in my earbuds and cranked up my iPod.

_I was out of your league__  
__And you were 20,000 underneath the sea__  
__Waiving affections__  
__You were out of my league__  
__At a distance that I didn't wanna see__  
__Down to the bottom_

My head leaned itself against the glass and I was miraculously comfortable. I was on the frayed edges of drunk and really wanted to get the hell out of here. Away from HoboBoy and his sidekick Mr. 'Get In the Backseat.' But we sat. And we waited. And HoboBoy fidgeted and Mr. Get In the Backseat kept looking at me from the rearview mirror.

I closed my eyes and willed myself not to fall asleep. I needed to be on my toes in the event that the Green Monster drove me out into the woods somewhere. I know Emmett arranged this little soiree, but he has been known to associate with some shady characters. A sudden and jarring rap on the glass against my ear forced me upright.

My eyes squinted into the filtered sunlight and there on the other side of the window was Leah Clearwhatever. She didn't look happy. At all.

I tugged the earbuds from my ears and looked at her confused. Why in the hell would she be looking at me like that? My answer came quickly.

"You fucking bitch," she screeched and the doors came open, "You fucking bitch. You are the reason he … Are you fucking him?" She was moving quickly and talking fast and loud and my sluggish brain was struggling to keep up. I leaned back as she tried to grab my arm.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

She scoffed indignantly and pointed behind me.

"Are. _You_. Fucking. _Him_?" She slowed it down and enunciated and I was grateful because I wasn't exactly running on all six cylinders. I looked at HoboBoy who was now sitting up and had taken his hand off of his face. He was staring back at me with wide, saucer shaped eyes.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked and his mouth flapped like a guppy.

"Oh, you skank," Leah roared, "It's not enough for you to have every guy in this place. You've got to go and open your cunt to the rest of the male population." She was waiving and flailing her arms around extra crazy and I was getting embarrassed. The rest of the school was making its way outside and they were apparently enjoying the show.

"I don't even fucking know this guy," I defended, "Jasper is picking me up to take me to Emmett's house. Not that it's any of your business."

_Finally_ Jasper piped up.

"Leah, please get in the car. Bella is hitching a ride. She has nothing to do with Edward."

And then it dawned on me. HoboBoy was the guy with the magic stick. He was the reason for all of the female bonding and male bashing. I turned a keen eye on him.

Good looking.

Nice jawline.

Green eyes.

Overall fuckable.

If I went the way of the less fortunate.

And I didn't.

But I might make an exception if his _Cock of Many Wonders _could make me sing like Maria on the Sound of Music.

Leah got in the car and slammed the door closed. I cringed and put in my earbuds in a feigned attempt to show my disinterest.

The truth was that I was really quite interested in what was going on, but no one was offering up explanations to the halfway drunk girl in the backseat.

The remainder of the trip back to Forks was tense to say the least.

After the initial outburst and door slamming, there was very little to observe. There were a few heated glances between Edward and Leah; Leah initiating, Edward cowering in fear beside me. Jasper kept sending furtive glimpses back to us and screwed with the ancient radio.

As soon as the Lincoln pulled up to a nondescript red brick house, Leah bolted out of her seat and started around to Edward's side of the car. He had no idea what was coming because his head was still hung in shame.

"Edward, lock your door," I blurted, "She's coming for you." My voice was laced with panic and you'd have thought I'd smoked out with all of the paranoia. But I could tell this bitch was serious.

She was out for blood.

_Hobo blood._

Edward's eyes shot open and his hand came down over the lock with a slap. "Jasper, drive," he squeaked.

"Yeah, go man." I shrieked, pounding my hands on the leather seat. I was kind of scared she'd pull me out with him in her bitch fit. He looked like the kind that would grab me and use me for a human shield.

Jasper made no move to pull the car out of her driveway. Instead, he coolly twisted the knob to roll down the driver's side window.

"Leah," he said with perfect calm, "What are you doing?" She just snapped her head in his direction as she clawed at the door handle. She sort of looked like one of those freaky zombies on _28 Days Later_. I shuddered and wrenched out my flask, tipping it back and praying for its fast action.

"This motherfucker owes me an explanation and an apology," she screeched, eyes wild, black hair whipping in the breeze. I looked over at Edward and he had resumed the fetal position, now adding in manic rocking.

"Leah, I'm pretty sure he explained himself the other night. Let's just let it go."

"I'm not _letting it go_, Jasper."

"You really need to. You're starting to look a little _Fatal Attraction_ from where I'm sitting."

"A little…Fuck, she's giving Glenn Close a run for her money." I scoffed under my breath. Edward turned his head to me and let out a tiny breath before closing his hands back over his face.

Leah started to ramble on about the same shit I'd already heard twice today and Jasper cut her off.

"Listen Leah, no one is going to be interested in you if you keep up this crazy act. Just cut your losses. It's over. He made that clear last night, now move on. I hope you have a nice weekend." He smiled sincerely and started to roll up the window and back out of her drive.

I swallowed thickly and looked back and forth between Jasper and his crazy friend. Neither talked and I didn't make any effort to fill the painfully awkward silence.

"I told you not to pick her up," Edward muttered from his corner. His voice was low and strained but still pleasant.

"I can't help it that I'm a nice guy. She didn't have a ride."

Jasper looked at me and I started to think maybe they were talking about me. I started to get pissed off that this dude was being a douche because I'd been present for his near castration. I was the one who saved him from that, did he not recall my act of selfless bravery?

"Yes she did you idiot. She just wanted to get in the car and screw with me. Mission accomplished. I was terribly uncomfortable and now I've got a headache," he gruffed and rolled down his window.

"You'll have to excuse my brother Bella, he is an asshole." Jasper smiled at me from over his shoulder. So they were brothers… interesting.

"Again, I am _not _the asshole in this situation." He was whining and readjusting his baseball cap neurotically. He halfway took it off, ran a hand under it and tugged it back on, over and over. Grumbling the entire time about Jasper's advice and stupid women.

Finally, after watching the strangely attractive, but altogether strange Edward spazz out over feeling awkward, we made it to Emmett's. Rose was perched in Em's lap as they sat in a rocker on the front porch. I threw the door open and skittered out, bags in hand.

"Thanks Jasper," Emmett boomed from the porch, "You and your brother coming over later?"

"Yeah probably," Jasper called back.

"No I'm not," Edward replied, "I'm not hanging out with you social misfits."

I turned back to look at him as he climbed out of the car and got into the front seat. He was tall and thin, but his face was sour and judgmental. He flopped into the car and slammed the doors closed like an irritable child.

I decided right then that Edward was indeed a whiny asshole. And pretty couldn't fix that.

* * *

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